


Domo Arigato

by Purple_is_My_Aesthetic



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Androids, Brainwashing, Fake Character Death, M/M, Memory Loss, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Not Canon Compliant, Robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purple_is_My_Aesthetic/pseuds/Purple_is_My_Aesthetic
Summary: It was funny really, how its nonexistent nerves always got to it in situations like this. It’s not like its anxiety was genuine anyways. Its processor didn’t even hold the capacity for basic emotions, let alone apprehension.At least that’s what they’d always told it.But none of that mattered now that it was finally out of The Factory — even if it was a temporary position. Anything had to be better than being subjected to countless experiments and torturous procedures all to gauge the effectiveness of artificial intelligence and its progress. Inside The Factory the android was nothing more than a mere guinea pig; a pile of machinery for the scientists to poke and prod. But now it had a mission, a purpose.To find SAVF9.





	Domo Arigato

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first attempt at writing anything for the Bandom so sorry if anyone is really out of character! It’s loosely inspired by the original video for “Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes which can be found here:
> 
> https://youtu.be/emfpuHIJiCs
> 
> The title is taken from the 1983 song “Mr. Roboto” by Styx, and the chapter title from “Choke” by IDKHOW.
> 
> If any of you are interested, here’s the playlist I listened to while writing this:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/emajb89/playlist/7wXzv00vnVfmx36VofQVz7?si=-9wySSLdT-2lKpBFGP8_9Q
> 
>  Updates every Sunday.
> 
> Beta’d by the amazing GalacticHofe

**“Unit PMVS3, your target has been sighted at 1919 NE Blackwood Blvd. The coordinates have been transmitted to your embedded Global Positioning System. We expect to see you there within the hour,”** purred a soft, feminine voice through the wireless radio implanted into the heap of metal and wire that was Patrick’s ear. It nodded and replied emotionlessly, “Your order has been evaluated and processed. En route to 1919 NE Blackwood Blvd now.” The android mentally gulped as it felt its wires flipping at the sound of its synthetic voice. It was funny really, how it nonexistent nerves always got to it in situations like this. It’s not like its anxiety was genuine anyways. Its processor didn’t even hold the capacity for basic emotions, let alone apprehension. 

At least that’s what they’d always told it. 

But none of that mattered now that it was finally out of The Factory — even if it was a temporary position. Anything had to be better than being subjected to countless experiments and torturous procedures all to gauge the effectiveness of artificial intelligence and its progress. Inside The Factory the android was nothing more than a mere guinea pig; a pile of machinery for the scientists to poke and prod. But now it had a mission, a purpose.

To find SAVF9.

F9 had been stolen — apprehended — from the factory no less than five hours ago by a low-ranking worker with the name of Travis McCoy.

And it was Patrick’s job to get it back.

The android steadied itself on its feet and began the journey to its target location. The serenity of the night would invoke feelings of relaxation and lethargy on most, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Patrick. It knew it was being watched — The Factory was not stupid enough to go and release a robot into the world unsupervised — and to be honest, Patrick was starting to feel a little bad for S9. Its not like S9 had chosen to be abducted or anything, and God knows what punishments they would have in store for it when it when Patrick returned it to-

 _No, stop._ Patrick thought to itself. _It’s bad enough that you’ve given yourself a name, you can’t just go and start to feel things and question The Factory next! You are nothing but a worthless scrap of wires and metal; your sole directive is to serve The Factory until the day your motherboard is terminated!_

 

It was thoughts like this that protected Patrick’s synthetic ass from the highly dreaded ritual known as deactivation. It was common knowledge amongst the androids at The Factory that any ‘bot who dared to speak or act out against its superiors was prepped for deactivation immediately. None of them knew exactly what the process consisted of, but the frantic beeps and screeches emitted from the secret area where deactivations took place were enough to keep them in line. It’s not like the recipients of the treatment didn’t deserve it anyways. Any machine with the capacity to think for itself was surely malfunctioning. 

Which meant that Patrick had been malfunctioning for quite awhile now, not that anyone knew. 

And for all that Patrick cared, it would stay that way for the considerable future.

In order to keep it this way, it had to retrieve SAVF9 and return it to The Factory, NOT let its personal thoughts get in the way and fuck up the entire mission.

Patrick sighed as it turned the corner and arrived at a brick apartment. It’s GPS informed it that F9 was in the fourth floor.

 _Enter the building, reclaim SAVF9, and dispatch any witnesses._ Patrick reminded itself without the slightest hint of doubt. _With any luck, I’ll be back at The Factory within the hour._

 

***

Patrick was most certainly NOT back at The Factory within the hour. In fact it had been almost two and the android was still observing the situation from an indiscreet coffee shop across the street. The Factory had somehow managed to hack the building’s security cameras and link them to the robot’s feed. Needless to say that it was slightly stumped on what to do next. 

SAVF9 was currently powered off and strapped to a bed as three human males armed with tasers and crowbars stood watch. Even though it couldn’t exactly tell what F9’s captors were saying, it was clear that they were at least partially experienced in robotics, as the fair-skinned one with silky brown hair appeared to be running diagnostics on the stolen android; evidenced but a series of cords and wires running from a computer to various locations on the android’s body. The male, who was dressed in black skinny jeans, a forest green cardigan, and a pastel pink scarf was typing commands into the computer rapidly — F9 twitching and sparking at every one. He finally paused for a split second, wiped his brow in apparent disbelief, and turned back to the others to share the newfound discovery. Within seconds the three people were prying the robot apart frantically with the intent to destroy. 

Patrick’s mechanical eyes widened in shock at the sudden realization. F9 was The Factory’s property, and a highly sophisticated piece of technology — not just some cheap computer that they could dismantle! 

 

The robot leapt to its feet and sprinted out of the shop towards the  
apartment at a breakneck speed, paying no attention to the alarmed looks of the passerby. Even though it had absolutely no semblance of a plan, Patrick knew that it would somehow free the captive android — or be terminated trying.

***

Pete could not believe the stupidity of the people in this world. Oh, he knew that was real rich coming from him — a middle-aged singer and bassist in a Chicago punk scene band who was infamous for sleeping around and treated life itself as a giant meme. Still, despite the aforementioned facts, the idiocy of some individuals still managed to stun him. 

“So lemme get this straight,” the musician said, his voice dangerously low. “We manage to get you an undercover job at the company we’re fighting, and he first thing you do is abduct one of their fucking androids and bring it back to the base of our _top secret_ robot fighting club?! How fucking stupid are you?!”

Travie merely rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in annoyance at the smaller man’s antics and sighed in frustration. “Dude, if it makes you feel any better, it was really easy to steal. They left it sitting out in the open — I mean _come on_ they were practically _begging._ Plus if anyone should be criticizing me, it’s him.” The rapper motioned over to Ryan, typing away at his desktop. He was the one who had been doing this the longest — almost four years to be precise — and he hadn’t made a single sound since Travie had walked in the door with the robot. 

The tense silence hung in the room, almost to the point where it was palpable. Ryan was a quiet soul, never one to waste words. He spent the majority of the day on his computer, always trying to find the newest information on Bryar Industries; the company that they suspected manufactured the AI.

When it became apparent that the youngest man was not going to add his input, Pete took a deep breath and attempted to change the subject. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?” he asked disapprovingly, referencing the restraints that had been placed on the unconscious android. 

“What do you mean?” the taller asked with a creased brow.

“I mean are all those straps really necessary? What’s she gonna think when she wakes up?”

Travie took a deep breath and placed a gentle hand on the Chicagoan’s shoulder. “Pete,” he said slowly, doing his best to keep his tone measured, “that thing’s not a human. It’s an it, and it’s completely evil. It almost decapitated me at least a dozen times when it figured out what I was trying to do. You were lucky that Ryan turned it off before you got here, that thing is not a pretty sight.”

“That’s complete bullshit and we all know it!” Pete screeched at the top of his lungs, jumping up on the tips of his toes to further prove his point. “You took her from her home, how did you think she was going to react?? Look, Joe and I ran into one of them last week, and believe me, those things can think! She was all cut up and leaking something that looked like oil — she was bleeding for fuck’s sake! We had to just sit there and watch her fucking die while she begged us to save her! She was one hundred percent sentient, I’m sure of it!”

“Pete’s right…” Ryan murmured from the corner, not once glancing away from the monitor. “These things are intelligent — they can think for themselves, possibly even feel emotions — which is what makes them so dangerous. Bryar Inc.’s been brainwashing them all, trying to form an army. They’re unpredictable — one c-could turn on you at any second…” the brunette’s voice broke as he tried to hide a sniffle. Pete knew that he had lost someone to the Bryar a few years ago, but he’d never had the courage to ask who. It was probably better that way. Talking about lost loved ones can be extremely painful — he knew from expirience.

Another minute silence passed before the scarf-wearer stood up and said in a choked voice, “But none of that matters now. What we have is a perfect opportunity to investigate this thing’s mechanics’ and try to figure out what gives it its intelligence.” Pete nodded and looked away solemnly, pretending not to notice the small stream of tears falling slowly out of Ryan’s eyes as he began connecting wires from the computer into previously unnoticed slots on the android’s body. 

Travie pulled he bassist into a tentative embrace as the youngest man worked. “When did our lives turn into Blade Runner?” he whispered under his breath and Pete bit back a shaky laugh. The two quickly launched into a playful banter on if 2049 lived up to its predecessor or not. It was funny really; how easily the duo would slip from total despisement to being good friends. 

About ten minutes later, Ryan emitted a small gasp. “Shitshit _shit_ ,” he breathed, slamming his hands down on the keyboard.

“What is it?” Pete asked nervously; dread oozing through his shaky voice.

“This thing has a tracker!” The Nevadan sputtered; his face creased with terror. “We have to get it out! _Now._ ”

***

Patrick thundered up the stairs in a blind rage; the voices of The Factory encouraging it. 

**“They’re evil! Evil! They stole from The Factory! Did you see them, ripping SAVF9 apart? Do you want to be next? Do you want to fail The Factory — the place that created you and gave you your sole purpose for existence? You must kill them — kill them all! Steal the breath from their throats the very way they stole SAVF9 from The Factory! Show them how it feels to be ripped to pieces!”**

Patrick reached the fourth floor, and stampeded down the hall with a thirst for blood. The voices grew louder with each passing step; bombarding it with the perfect ways to ruthlessly murder the thiefs. 

It stopped at a door on the right suddenly; the almost magnetic pull of the GPS overtaking it. It’s hand involuntarily reached for the knob, twisting it slowly as it clicked open; miraculously unlocked. Before the android knew it, it had thrown itself over the threshold and into the apartment… drowning in the voices… their fury… the hatred. Lines began to blur as The Factory took over, leaving Patrick was nothing but a weapon for which they could do with as they pleased. 

A blurry figure cloaked in dark fabric came into view. **“It’s the thief!”** wailed one of the voices, and suddenly Patrick had knocked the man to the ground. It was on top of him, clutching his throat savagely, blocking the man from drawing another breath. His warm skin felt good under the cool metal of the robot’s hands, and his horrified eyes inspired a spark of thrill in its processor. The man was trying to form words, but Patrick couldn’t care less; not when its work was earning it such approval from The Factory.

“...Pa….trick..” the man wheezed feebly, and everything abruptly came into focus. The robot dropped its grip in shock; the once vibrant cries of “ **Kill him!”** now naught but distant echoes.

********

It must have heard incorrectly, surely this man — this thief — could not have known its name. The android had never told a soul, be it robot or human, of the word’s existence and why it meant so much to it. 

********

It began replaying the footage over and over again frantically in its head, but each time the word stayed the same. The thief hadn’t stirred since Patrick had abandoned its chokehold; in fact, the man might be as good as dead.

********

Had it been paying more attention, the robot would have noticed the second presence inching up behind it.

********

“H-how did you know my name?” it finally asked weakly. 

********

Instead of the answer it had been expecting, android was met with a tight grip from behind, and a surge of darkness as its power switch was flipped off.

********

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! Don’t be afraid to leave a comment or kudos!


End file.
